Not Prince Charming
by javalicious
Summary: This is not a story about prince charmings. There are no witches in top hats, or damsels shrieking in distress. This is a story about real people, and real issues. At least, as real as a fandom can make them. Now, let's meet Luke... [LL] [minor RJ]
1. God Almighty

_The rating is because I don't know how much FanFiction dot NET likes sexual references and lots of foreplay. I want to be safe – to get a story kicked out because I said 'toolbox' a few too many times would be obnoxious. Besides, I figure most people don't pay a whole lot of attention to the ratings anyway. I know I don't. But if you're reading this, and don't know what 'sex' is, leave, right now. Or find out. Ask a math teacher._

_I would also like to state here that I am not putting a disclaimer. I have been curious about the point of disclaimers for a while now, and have come to the conclusion that they are point_less_. I realize that I am being hypocritical, I put disclaimers on all of my stories, but it is somewhat of a trend I believe. Really: FanFiction dot NET is obviously a place for _fan_fiction, and if we owned Gilmore Girls, or anything like it, we wouldn't be posting on a website. Besides, I bet they have a large disclaimer to cover all of us._

_My third and final notice: This story takes place in my imagination, which, unfortunately, does not coincide with the actual television show. We have Jess, alive and kicking and dating Rory (though I hope not all at once.) We have a Sherry-less, Gigi-less Chris. We also have an excellent, loving couple of Luke and Lorelai. Live with it. _

_Okay, I lied. We have one more notice: Thanks to my brand-spanking new beta Keyla, who has made her first two corrections, and helped me with the little plot this story actually has. Xiexie (for those Mandarin-speaking, pinjin-reading people.)_

_Now, for our feature presentation…_

Not Prince Charming

Chapter 1: God Almighty

Let me start off by saying that this isn't a story about charming princes, or golden stallions. There are no damsels in distress, no witches, and not a whole lot of magic. This is a story about real live people, and real live issues. (At least, as real as a fandom can make them.)

Let's meet Luke. I wouldn't say his life is extremely enticing, though I wouldn't say it's mundane. But then maybe I'm full of wishy-washy, not-taking-sides adjectives, and you should just think for yourself. Luke is in his forties, runs a diner, and probably has a nice torso if he ever took his shirt off in public. He lives above the diner with his teenage nephew, Jess, and apparently this is the reason he's no good at dating. Personally, I don't believe it.

Now let's meet Lorelai. Some people would say her life _is_ extremely enticing, and most would say it definitely _isn't_ mundane. But then maybe people are full of extreme adjectives, and you should just think for yourself. Lorelai is in her thirties, and while she doesn't run a diner, she manages an Inn, and most would say that's just as good. She lives in a nice little house with her teenage daughter Rory, who is, and probably has been for most of her life, more mature than Lorelai. Not that it's hard to do.

Lorelai and Rory walked into the diner in a deep conversation about God.

"So, if you had to choose someone to be _your_ God, who would it be?"

Lorelai sat down at their usual table and thought hard. "Right now, I'm leaning towards Kevin Bacon. Though I do have a thing for Tom Cruise."

Rory giggled hard. "I can't believe you like Tom Cruise."

"Stop it."

But Rory couldn't help it. "Cruiser."

Before Lorelai had a chance to do any of the hundred things to shut up her daughter, Luke interrupted with the coffee. "Oh! Oh, I got it! My God would be coffee. Mmmm."

This time Rory looked sincere. "That would work. Which means the coffee's God would have to be Luke. And Luke's God would be… Luke? What would your God be?" Luke shot Rory a look of do-you-really-expect-me-to-answer-that, which only resulted Lorelai responding.

"Probably a baseball card."

"Or a toolbox."

"Toolbox. Dirty."

"Hate to interrupt your… conversation." Luke didn't look like he hated it, but it was probably just an expression. "Lorelai, can I talk to you for a minute?"

She leaned into her coffee mug, smelling it deeply, and slightly obsessively. "Okay. Shoot."

"No. I mean alone." He stressed the word 'alone' slightly, so that if he were a banana, he would be saying _Are you thinking what I'm thinking B1?_

"You know," Replied Lorelai, looking at her daughter seriously, "Our Gods are probably watching us all of the time. Which means we're never _really_ alone."

Luke didn't need to say _Are you thinking what I'm thinking B1?_ because the look he shot Lorelai explained it. And Lorelai finally realized what he meant – she may run an Inn, but that doesn't mean she gets subtly all that quickly – so she stood, gave Rory a significant look, and walked towards the door at the back of the diner.

Luke set down the pot of coffee in front of Rory. (And, had anyone been looking, they would have noticed that Rory took the pot and refilled her mug. But Rory doesn't want people knowing that she's a bigger addict than her mother, so she would appreciate it if you kept that quiet.) And he followed Lorelai into the small storage room.

As Luke closed the door, Lorelai turned towards him, and leaning against a wall, said sweetly. "Yes?"

Luke moved towards Lorelai, leaning against the same wall with his hands, so that he pinned Lorelai against it. He flashed a smile before ducking his head slightly so that he could kiss Lorelai.

This was no do-you-like-me-back kiss, or even an I'm-happy-to-see-you kiss. Oh no. This was more of an I-wish-you-were-at-_my_-place-last-night kiss, and those kinds usually last several long minutes. Or lots short minutes, depending on your view of the world.

A lot of writers, right here, would now crash this beautiful scene with something like: At least, that's what Luke/Lorelai/Jess/troubadour-guy-who-doesn't-want-us-to-know-his-name wanted to happen. What _really_ happened was… But I'm not like a lot writers, because I happen to know that Luke really did kiss Lorelai in a heated kind of way, and they could take it a little far if we don't return to the story. I just thought you might want to know.

By now they've broken away, breathing heavily. Lorelai had her hand up Luke's shirt, and Luke wished he could say the same, but Lorelai had on a shirt that can't really have a hand up it, and Luke prayed to his God that it wasn't worn on purpose.

"I've been _wanting_ to have a quickie in the back of the diner." Nope, thought Luke happily, definitely not worn on purpose. And while he agreed with her comment completely, he knew that neither of them could, because the diner was one third full, and the Inn needed to be managed, and the wall wasn't all that comfortable.

"You know," Luke said, in that deep voice he reserves only for Lorelai in private, "If your God is coffee, and coffee's God is me, then technically, _I'm_ your God."

"And your God is a toolbox." Lorelai grinned. "Very dirty."

Luke settled his head down near Lorelai's neck; placing light kisses along her collarbone. She always did have a thing for necks, but he – and I, I suppose – forgot where and when he learnt it. Perhaps how he learnt it as well, though maybe that is best forgotten. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"Mmmm. Yeah." Luke continued to move across her neck, so that he was nearly under her chin, and her head tilted back against the wall. "I was thinking, maybe we could skip dinner and just go back to my place." She was only half-joking, because she really did have a thing for necks.

"Won't Rory be there?"

"Mmmm. Yeah." As Luke made his way to the other side of her neck, Lorelai wondered briefly where he'd learnt to do this; to make her feel like this. "Rory knows about us. She said she doesn't mind." Lorelai paused, as if contemplating it for a moment. "We can be quiet."

Luke chuckled into her neck, the hot air almost evoking a groan from Lorelai. Almost. "We? I can be quiet. You, on the other hand, never have been good at that."

"What are you talking about? I can control –" At this moment Luke bit down lightly on soft neck of her skin. That got a groan. "- my –" He licked the flesh quickly, then blew on it. This got more than a groan. "- self…" Luke stopped what he was doing for a moment, breathing in Lorelai's scent, and allowing her to continue talking.

"That is definitely –" Luke must have had a change of heart, because he started nibbling on the skin just above the neckline of her shirt. It wasn't a collar shirt. Lorelai moaned long and deep, breathing raggedly for a few moments afterwards. "- Cheating."

Luke laughed, stopped kissing Lorelai, and placed a hand on her hip. "If that's cheating, then what I was I doing last week? You remember, right?"

"That is called –" Luke had no intention of letting Lorelai finish that sentence. And just as he was getting ready to do his finale move on Lorelai – not that I would've told you, because I hear that it's pretty explicit, so I didn't pay much attention – her phone buzzed. A glass was heard smashing in the diner. The wall wasn't very comfortable.

"That was a showstopper if I every saw one."

I could continue on about how they both felt pretty sexually frustrated during the day, but I won't. I could tell you about their daydreams that day, but I definitely won't. I could tell you how Lorelai complained to Sookie that they hadn't been able to 'hook up' (which is a subtle way of saying 'have sex.' At least, it was subtle,) but I won't.

I could tell you about that lusty kiss right before they had dinner, but I won't. I could tell you how they joked and bickered and flirted over the meal, but I won't. I could tell you what Luke's hand was doing under the table when Lorelai shot him 'that look,' but once again, I _definitely_ won't.

I could tell you about how Lorelai giggled like a teenager as she 'snuck' Luke past Rory, or how Rory heard them easily, and simply upped the sound on her headphones, or how Lorelai tripped on a stair and fell into Luke's arms, or how Luke didn't mind that her room was a mess, but I don't think I will.

I _couldn't_ tell you about that comment that Lorelai made about 'Gods' that was so dirty, because I only heard about it third hand. Or exactly what happened that night after Lorelai closed the door, because I wasn't trying to look, and you shouldn't be either.

I will tell you, however, that when Lorelai woke up next to Luke in the morning (it helped that Luke was naked, but it wasn't necessary) she felt completely and undeniably happy about the situation. And I'll tell you that Luke agreed whole-heartily.

Now, I may or may not have mentioned before that I am an honest writer. I won't add or omit anything just for the sake of the story. I'm simply recalling events, and if those events aren't to your – or my – likings, then we'll just have to deal. So I'm just warning you: you may have to deal.

Just as Luke and Lorelai started to get into a morning-after-night-of-great-sex conversation, ("Isn't it ironic that all my life I've turned to my God for what is morally best, and it turns out all he ever wanted was to get into my pants?") There was a knock at the door.

At first it was ignored, as most odd happenings are by contented people. But the second time it could be argued that it shouldn't be called knocking, but pounding, so Lorelai decided she had to get up.

Luke teasingly peeked under the blanket. I needn't tell you what he saw, which wasn't a whole lot. "I hope you're not going like that."

Lorelai smiled back. "Of course not. I'll wear your baseball cap." She then proceeded to slip into some pyjamas, kiss Luke quickly, and walk down the stairs. The knocking/pounding continued.

As Lorelai opened the door, "Oh God" escaped her mouth. Had Luke been there, he might've made some snide comment, but he wasn't, so he couldn't. It was a good thing too, because if Luke had seen who was at the door before being warned, but might've been a little more than snide.

The man at the door grinned lopsidedly at Lorelai. He had an overly large duffel bag over one shoulder, and several coins and notes in the other. Perhaps the reason that the money was in his hand and not his bag was that it was change from a bus fare, or perhaps because it was change from a taxi fare. But the reason was probably because his bag was so full that if he put in the money it would either pop back out, or never be found again.

Lorelai didn't find this quite as interesting.

"God?" He replied, smirking, "I think he's a relative." The reference to God, like the money in his hand that looked sweaty, and the size of the duffel, went unnoticed by Lorelai.

"What are you doing here Chris?" There could've been worse times for him to show up, but her mind was blank. His grinned disappeared. He re-adjusted his duffel bag (it looked pretty heavy.)

"I'm really sorry Lorelai, but can I crash here for a few days?" He had a pained expression on his face. Lorelai – despite her disapproving conscience – thought it was kind of cute.

However, Luke, who was still in her bedroom, lying on her bed (naked,) was a whole lot cuter. "Chris, this isn't the best time."

"Look," he said seriously, "I'm in a bit of trouble. I'll make it up to you, I promise. And I really want to see Rory again." Lorelai could never refuse Chris, and this didn't seem to be any time to break the habit. She let him in. She told him she had to go upstairs for a moment. Get changed, you know.

As she walked up the stairs she thought about God again. Luke can't be my God; she thought sullenly, if he were my God, this would have never happened.

_God almighty._


	2. So, So Very Sorry

_Welcome to our presentation. cough I actually have no notices. That depresses me. So I will make a notice about having no notices. Notice that I notice that you should notice this notice about no notices and a notice about no notices is a notice without a notice and noticing this makes you notice no notice and I notice all this. ... Notice it well._

_Okay. I lied. Let me say, on a serious note (yes, I can be serious, ha ha) that I am sorry for taking twice as long as it should have to write this. Well, uh, sorry. There's just been a lot of stuff going on, but I'm pretty sure I can make more time to write now. _

_Wow, I'm such a liar, because I actually have another notice. Let me ask, on a not so serious note (ha ha) about all those people who talked to math teachers about sex. How did it go? I hope it went well._

_Heh, heh, kind of regretting that first notice, aren't I? For anyone who cares, Jess will make an appearance in this story. I swear on, uh, Luke's life. (And seriously, who would kill off Luke? … Don't answer that.) And, no, he will not come back as a mutated half human half polar bear because of radiotherapy. I hate those stories._

_Now, to our feature presentation…_

Not Prince Charming

Chapter 2: So, So Very Sorry.

Luke had his eyes closed, completely oblivious to Lorelai's weirded-out aura. He looked pretty uncomfortable, in an odd position that was halfway between lying down and sitting up. Walking up to his dozing figure, Lorelai leaned in towards him for a distance that – had they not been dating, and as a consequence of that, sleeping together – would have been awkwardly close.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, only partway to his ear. His eyes shot open, looking at her curiously. Then she leaned in all the way, kissing him long and deep. (A kiss that probably had a lot of tongue action involved, although it's hard to tell from the outside.)

Grinning goofily, something he only started doing since he was dating Lorelai, Luke replied, "That is nothing to be sorry about."

Lorelai sighed, and moved over to her wardrobe. She started shuffling through the contents – high and low – pulling out several articles. A tee shirt, a pair of jeans, and a black bra all landed unceremoniously on Luke's bed sheet-clad body.

"Chris is here." She didn't even try to hide the disappointment in her voice. (Though, even if she had tried, it probably wouldn't have worked.)

"Uh," Luke moved into a definite sitting position, the bed sheets falling to reveal his torso. He rarely bares his torso – perhaps he's insecure, though about what, I have no idea – but he seems to make an exception for Lorelai. Many exceptions.

He traced a finger along the pieces of clothing, eventually picking up the black bra. It was held at arms length, as if it might jump up and attack him. And knowing Lorelai's wardrobe, it very well could have. "Who's that again?"

She strutted back to him, still in pyjama pants and shirt, once again leaning in close. She grabbed the bra out of his hand possessively, grinning slightly at the scene. "Rory's dad."

A long, low, almost whistle-like sound of understanding came from Luke's mouth. He shifted his position on the bed, nervously. Had he had something to do with his hands – which you generally don't when you're sitting on a bed naked, _cough _– he would have done it. "I should probably go."

Lorelai was already on the other side of the room, about to take off her shirt. I looked away – she deserves a _little_ bit of privacy – as she was turning her head to Luke. "I told you I was sorry."

From the dull sound of bed sheets falling to the ground, I guessed that Luke had gotten up, walking towards to Lorelai.

"No, really," Lorelai said, in the tone that someone might say, _No, really, I want to step into boiling lava_. "I have to –" Luke must have done something, because before she could finish the sentence, a deep moan erupted. Luke chuckled, softly. I wonder what he did, don't you? "- Go… Chris is downstairs."

Luke knew that they had to go. Lorelai knew that they had to go. It was the actual going that was causing a problem. Things seem to happen that way.

Somewhere along the line they both got dressed, and walked down the stairs - as I opened my eyes - to see a comfortable looking Chris splayed across the couch. Suddenly Comfortable Chris became Uncomfortable Chris as he noticed the top buttons that Luke was still doing up on his flannel shirt.

By the time Lorelai had walked Luke to the front door, both Luke and Christopher were feeling a little odd about the situation. Lorelai, of course, remained naïve about the situation. "I'll see you later, okay?"

It was then that she noticed Luke's hands stuffed deep inside his jeans pockets, an old habit of nervousness. She frowned. "Maybe," She said quietly, "I'll just call."

Luke made a tough decision. He had leaned in, as if to kiss Lorelai on the mouth (which is was he wanted to do,) but had side-glanced at Chris, who was – unfortunately – staring at the couple. It was at that point that Luke changed his mind, turning the potential pash into a light kiss on the cheek. "Okay." He said simply.

Even after he had closed the door behind him, and the sounds of his truck started to disappear into the distance, Lorelai looked confusedly at the door. When the final sputter of gas left her ears, she shrugged, as if content in not knowing.

"Right," She started, sitting down next to Chris, "Why are you here?"

His gaze traveled to the place Luke had been standing just moments before, looking at it for a moment with sincere curiosity. "Who's he?"

"Him?" Her voice raised quickly pitch, on the edge of cracking. Chris acknowledged it quickly. It was Lorelai's turn to be nervous. "Oh, he's, well, uh, you see… He's, uh, Luke?" Even Lorelai found the answer to be unsatisfactory.

However Chris let the subject go – a lesson he'd learnt early in life was to never get in an argument with the person who'll house you for the next few days – and continued on to the next subject. "Where's Rory?"

"Look, Chris," Lorelai began to address him as a child. "If you're going to stay here, I need a reason why."

"Look, Lore," Chris mocked her, his eyes bright and humorous. "I just want to know where my daughter is. Is that such a crime?" He grinned at her, hoping for old times.

"Our daughter."

Chuckling, only slightly, he agreed. "That's right. _Our_ daughter."

Lorelai lay back on the couch, no longer facing Chris. "Rory" she said, accentuating the word, "is at school." Her head turned, looking at Chris, "_Now_ will you tell why you're here? I can kick you back out, you know."

"I'm starved. Why don't we talk about this over breakfast?" Lorelai eyed him suspiciously. "What about that place you guys always go to? Duke's?"

She couldn't help it. An involuntary giggle bubbled up. "Uh, no." Lorelai regained her composure quickly. That fact that Chris didn't connect 'Luke' to 'Duke' was probably a good thing. "Let's go to Al's."

"Who's Al?"

"Al," she said, "Is only the most fickle cook you've ever met. Like that word? Fickle? I love it. Sounds like pickle."

One change of clothing later ("Everyone knows that you should wear at least two different outfits each day. Haven't you seen the movies?") Lorelai and Chris stepped into Al's Pancake World. They got seated right away – the breakfast call at Al's was not huge – the only other customers being an old couple, two rowdy teenagers, and – most unfortunately – Kirk.

Lorelai sniffed the air, breathing it in deeply and sighing satisfactorily. "Smell that?" Chris responded only with raising an eyebrow questioningly. "That is the smell of who-knows-what. Doesn't it smell good?"

She was unsure as to why she was so perky. Perhaps there was something about Chris that made her like that - like a happy and playful puppy – but she, and hopefully you, hoped that it was the _only_ reason.

The table was covered in a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, a basket of bread placed in the centre of the table, and a menu in front of each person. The words were unreadable, except for the occasional 'crepe.' And, of course, 'eau,' which according to Lorelai meant water.

(If you're curious, her claim to fame came from perfume. 'Eau de toilette,' a common phrase on perfume bottles, meaning 'toilet water.')

"Pancakes aren't French." Commented Chris, looking around the restaurant curiously.

Lorelai stared at him, aghast, "You don't know about Al?" His raised eyebrows, and cocky expression, exclaimed clearly that he didn't. "I'll get Rory to tell you. She loves Al's story. So, what do you want? Not that we know what it is, but we can go for pot luck or vague idea."

Food was ordered and brought, and Chris could procrastinate no longer. "No more distracting me with food," Said Lorelai; still picking at her large, chocolate crepe. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

Wiping his hands on the napkin, Chris shot Lorelai his trademark grin. "Can't put anything past you, Lorelai. It's really not a huge story –" Lorelai coughed, words forming underneath it, hidden just enough to hide exactly what they were, ('bullshit' comes to mind.) "- I'm just at a low-point in my career right now. "Lorelai coughed again. "I just got off a job."

"As in fired, or quit?"

Another grin filled his face, this time obnoxiously. "Fired."

Lorelai never understood how Chris was so laid back about jobs – or lack of jobs. If she was ever fired – though unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on how you think, it's usually her doing the firing – she would probably have a heart attack. It might be an exaggeration, but sometimes I wonder.

"Well," She said matter-of-factly, not particularly perturbed about him being fired, (for he was probably fired often,) but at the fact that he was going to stay at her place, with no income, and probably no idea. "What are you going to do about it?"

He looked down, stirring his coffee absent-mindedly, not really avoiding the question, but moreover trying to find the best way to pitch the answer. He was always good at that. "I thought I'd relax here, spend some time with Rory, spend some time with you," She wished he would stop grinning. So did I. "I was hoping you'd have the web; so I could get some numbers, call some people, you know, see what I can do."

Lorelai looked slightly confused. I was unsure exactly if it was a feigned confusion, or real confusion, but I make a point to never over- _or_ underestimate people. "The what?"

"What the what?"

"What the what the what the what?"

"_Lorelai_…"

She grinned maliciously. She had finally confused him. (And hey, let's face it, you and me too.) "I've heard of this 'web' thing, and apparently – so Rory says – we have it. But I've never seen it." Her head tilted, as if contemplating something interesting and profound. "Kind of like Australia. Heard of it; people say it exists; but, _hello_, never seen it." Oh yeah, real profound.

"Canada, too."

Halfway through bringing the piece of crepe on her fork to her mouth, she agreed. "That's right! I've never been to Canada. Canadians; yeah, they seem like a scary bunch. Don't some of them speak French?"

I suspect that the rest of the conversation went on like that: Blunt questions getting subtle answers, and moving away from topics so quickly that you probably couldn't say 'Some French speaking Canadians live in Australia' before you weren't talking about countries or languages at all. Of course, this is just what I suspected, because I went to check on Luke for a bit.

He was going about the average Wednesday morning dining business. He wasn't particularly grumpy (and when I say 'particularly', I mean more than normal) but he wasn't exactly happy (and when I say 'exactly', I mean not at all) either. But he was extremely glad that Miss Patty didn't know _all_ about his life, because she was in the diner, and had she known even of some of the events of the morning, his life would be a living hell. So to speak.

"Luke dear," She started, as Luke had huffily placed Miss Patty's plate in front of her, spilling several pieces of egg onto the table, "You're in a devastating mood. Lorelai not giving you any?"

The comment cut a lot deeper than Patty had planned, though she was not sure why, as Luke gave a her a terribly long death stare before walking away with heavy footsteps. He wasn't yet sure if he should be jealous of Chris, or if threatening him (and Luke never gave out empty threats) would help the situation. And since Lorelai wasn't there, he just had to sit and wait it out. Patience was never one of his strong points.

After espresso shots, Chris and Lorelai returned to the house. Chris immediately retrieved a laptop from his duffel bag, looking for an Internet connection (with no help from Lorelai, of course.) Lorelai immediately went to the work for business school she told Chris she had to do, actually counting the minutes until it seemed to be a believable time to go into work 'for the afternoon.'

Finally she was able to get away, changing into 'work clothes' with amazing speed and agility. ("Three outfits a day is perfectly respectful, haven't you seen the movies?") Had Chris not suddenly found an Internet cable hidden in a drawer full of old crayons, he would have noticed her quick escape. As it happens, he was just rejoicing. (And thinking, _crayons_?)

Lorelai scanned the diner quickly, relieved to see that Kirk had not left Al's (at least, not for Luke's) and that Miss Patty was nowhere to be seen (Lorelai hated the cat calls.) However, Luke was als0 nowhere to be seen.

She moved quickly up to the counter, plopping down on a stool. "Luuuu-caaaas" She called out, in a singsong voice, knowing full well that he hated it. The problem was that the name 'Luke' had only one syllable, and therefore not at all the sort of name needed for a singsong voice. Once she used 'Luke-y,' a seemingly obvious solution, but the problem being that the one time she used it, it resulted in sex deprivation. And of all the days (and when I say 'all' I mean 'the few') Lorelai didn't want to have sex with Luke, this was not one of them.

Eventually Luke came out from the back of the diner, serving several people before settling down behind the counter, facing Lorelai. He said, "I hate it when you call me that" before looking down and writing on that pad of paper he always has.

Lorelai merely grinned. "At least I didn't call you 'Luke-y.'"

At that moment Luke stopped writing, perhaps contemplating the odd conundrum, or perhaps just thinking about Lorelai and sex.

"Lunch?" He asked, suddenly hopeful that maybe Chris had dropped off a cliff, and that maybe they could finish what they started last night. More the latter than anything else.

"Sorry," and she really did look sorry, "Just two cups of coffee." She paused. "To go."

After a few minutes of silence as Luke made the coffee, (and Lorelai stared at the obvious,) one cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup was sat in front of Lorelai. "Uh," She looked bewildered, from the coffee to Luke and back to the coffee again. I think she was faking it, but as I said before, I try not to judge. "Where's the other cup of coffee? Because, you know, I need two at every meal to function, and because I'm not sticking around to get any refills, I, you know, need two."

"You get what you get."

Several seconds of more bewilderment passed before Lorelai accepted her fate. She brought the cup to her mouth, practically gulping it down. Luke loved it when she did this, drank it as if it were the only thing keeping her alive, moaning as she went. He particularly liked the moaning bit, because he could tell the difference from when she was faking it, and when she really was moaning. He knew that because, well, he had experience in that area.

"You know," He said, leaning closer to Lorelai as she put the now half-empty cup back on the counter (or half-full,) "Caesar asked me why I was in so early."

"Oh, babe, I'm sorry."

"We were supposed to spend the morning together." His voice lowered slightly, and he leaned in further. "Alone" His nose was practically touching hers. "In bed" He moved his head so that he was now speaking right into her ear. "Naked." Lorelai giggled, feeling his breath on her neck as he spoke.

He repositioned his head so that he could kiss her, full and on the lips. Lorelai thought that if she could just move her hand (which she couldn't, because it was the only thing holding her up) and unbutton the bottom button of Luke's flannel (which she normally had a hard enough time with when she was balanced) and move her hand up to his chest (which would probably attract a lot of attention) then everything would be okay.

Luke was thinking something similar.

Of course, they couldn't do any of that, so it all just stayed in their head really. And it continued staying in their head right up until they broke kiss, grinning idiotically, and Lorelai finally turned to leave. It was then that she noticed Chris, leaning against the door of the diner, with that grin of his face of which she had a love/hate relationship with.

From the moment Luke saw that grin, he had more of a hate/kill relationship. Chris hadn't dropped off a cliff. He had dropped into Luke's. Luke wondered just who he had offended up there to deserve it, and begged for forgiveness. (Or for a large lightning bolt to hurt certain people with.)

Lorelai looked at Chris for an undeterminable amount of time, taking in the facts before looking back at Luke. Her gaze could have only possibly said one of two four-word phrases. Either _fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_, or…

_So, so very sorry._


End file.
